i found this earlier this morning...
http://travelaholicanonymous.net/
its a website where travellers share their stories, which i found nice, especially being as one had been to New York, and it allowed me to revel in the memories of my time there.
however, i feel everything that they are writing about, only heightened. maybe because i lived and worked there. maybe because im not actually meant to be here.
I'm originally from Wales, and when i moved to England i felt so outside of myself. i figured it was just because it was a new situation, a new place.
but thinking back, i didnt feel too right wondering around Cardiff where i grew up...as if i was just dropped into the wrong place and wrong situation. but i carried on and dealt with it, because hey, i was a teenager, and an awkward semi-rebellious one, at that...that's just how things were.
But things felt right in America. people listened. people wanted to know more about me, about my past, my 'story'.
i had a story out there.
i have no story here. i'm just another face... the word 'i' sounds so much more pretentious and self indulgent here. nobody cares. i am nobody. how ironic...
sorry, i babbled a bit there, but basically my point was that i wanted to share that site, as it has other people who love travelling and their memories. and i figured that by reading others memories, we could maybe reflect more on our own? i know i spend far to much time thinking about great things i did out in America, and keep trying to slip it into conversation, but noone i know was there, so they dont understand, or care.
its starting to be like 'this one time, in band camp...' type of thing.
so i figured here would be the place to share :)
memories anyone?
Wow the website is really good - there's more of us out there, we are not alone!!!
ReplyDeleteI know what you mean - I'm sick myself of saying 'this one time, in Canada...'
I can't even begin off the top of my head! They just occur to me, as I try to go on with my life, all the time. Like just walking down my road, I remember how in Canada, because of the grid-like system of their streets, you can sometimes look straight down a road that's going downhill and see for miles and miles. Like one road on campus, if you stood on it right, you could see through campus, through like the highstreet, across the water and into Quebec. You could see the trees of the park in the background through the frame of the city in the foreground...
And then once I'm done remembering that, I'm noticing the fact that in Canada, instead of red man green man at crossings, they have white man red hand...
And then I'm noticing how narrow and claustrophobic our roads are compared to the open, wide pavements of Ottawa...
And then I'm noticing... I'm remembering.....
Tell me a memory of America.